Mater Matris
by Uozumi
Summary: Perhaps if their mothers were not so similar, Kirk would have been able to forget two small, errant memories that snuck in during the mind meld.


**Fandom** _Star Trek AOS_  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Amanda, Kirk, Spock, Spock Prime, Winonna; no pairing  
**Genre** Family  
**Rating** PG  
**Word Count** 1071  
**Disclaimer** Star Trek c. Paramount, CBS, NBC, Roddenberry  
**Summary** Perhaps if their mothers were not so similar, Kirk would have been able to forget two small, errant memories.  
**Warning(s)** None  
**Notes** I need to write some more _Where No Wizard_ since it's up in rotation, yet here I am writing another one-shot. This idea came to me after I was thinking upon what really might be some errant memories between Spock Prime and Kirk given the situation. It just seems to me memories connected to Vulcan were more likely in the transfer than memories connected to Kirk Prime. Also, the concept that Vulcan might eat flowers is not mine in origin but it would make sense they might eat all non-animal foliage available and even in desert landscapes there are flowers.

_**Mater Matris**_

If their mothers were not so similar, Kirk thought he would have forgotten two small errant memories. They were not his own and were never intended to become part of the framework of his mind. They were unintended transfers from a desperate mind meld in the butt crack of Delta Vega. He had not even noticed their presence until he arrived home after the entire ordeal was over and gained a small swath of shore leave to recover before setting out upon his USS Enterprise on the first of what he suspected would be many five-year missions.

He had been home in Iowa sitting upon a coral at the farmhouse. There was not much left to the farm anymore, but they still had animals and the land was viable. His mother had been keeping it up since he left and he was impressed with her craftsmanship. He pulled his jacket around himself tighter. The sun was rising and the air was still at its coldest for the night. He was debating going back indoors when he heard the farmhouse door open and shut then a rather thick blanket was placed around his shoulders before his mother joined him sitting up on the corral.

She did not ask him if he could not sleep, nor what he was doing up at such an hour, or if he had been there all night. Her wrinkled face drew into a long, worn smile as if she knew all of that already. Maybe she had been out here like this countless times when he was growing up, back from a mission with all that weight.

Kirk looked down at the blanket and then put half of it around her too. It was a large quilt made by somebody's great to the tenth power or something grandmother centuries ago, but it was warm and comforting. When the sun came up over a windbreak on the horizon, the oddest image occurred to him.

The memory started with a sunrise yet it was in brilliant, vibrant colors as though something in the air was catching the rays and magnifying colors. The memory made Kirk feel young and small, but this was unlike any place he ever would have been feeling that way. It was not Iowa or even California. The wind whipped across the desert before him, shooting down through tall rock faces like a wind tunnel, threatening to overtake what he perceived as his small form.

Someone called out to him, a name he could not quite understand. Then there was a blanket placed around him and a woman came into the line of vision. She was maybe thirty-five or so years old and her hair was long, dark, and wavy. It swirled around her despite the scarf around her head to keep it from her face. "Spock," she said, "you can't come outside right now."

"But mother," a small voice with a fishbowl quality as though it was whoever owned the memory spoke the words, "I want to see it."

"Not this one," the woman bent down and picked him up, holding him close. "Come, we have to get to shelter." She kissed his temple.

In that moment, there were strong emotions that were a bit disorienting even with the dull of age and that it was a memory. The strongest of all was love and trust, a strong sense of "mother" and everything positive that could be associated with that term seemed to assault Kirk's brain without much warning.

A hand on his arm dispelled the memory. "I'm going to make some breakfast. Do you want any?" His mother removed herself from the blanket and situated it properly around him.

"Uh…yeah," Kirk answered and watched her leave back to the house. He looked back at the rising sun. That memory was different but it was not unlike one he had encountered before. After the mind meld in the cave, Kirk had been trying to sort out what the time traveling Spock gave to him and came across a small memory in the mass of Romulans and red matter that had nothing to do with any of what that Spock claimed Kirk needed to know.

Again, the memory was located on the same desert planet – probably Vulcan – only this time it was during the day. That same woman was in the line of vision fixing what must be lunch. It looked like some sort of fruit salad with flowers mixed in. Its fragrance was strong and welcoming even if Kirk would never ever eat any flower put before him.

"This is the last we will see of each other until what must be done is done," she said and placed the plate before the owner of the memory.

There was picking at the plate, followed by overly long examinations of the items upon it. Finally, the mother returned and sat down beside her child at the table.

"What is on your mind?" she asked.

"I wonder…" there was a pause and what sounded like a slightly older voice than the other memory stated, "if things will change when I return." There was more poking and some of the flowers on the plate were turning into piles of petals.

"Many things change," the mother stated. Her lips turned into a soft smile. "But even if you change, I will still love you. I am your mother and that is one of those things that cannot change."

There was that strong emotional reaction to her again. Yet it was more dulled than the other memory more likely due to the lack of touch. It was the key that led Kirk to poking his finger right into what was bothering Spock the most on the bridge and twisting. Even if he had not received memories he should not have, it would have been the best way to unravel his first officer, yet that memory assured Kirk it would be the fastest, most effective way to get what need to be done.

Kirk slid off the corral and let out a small breath. He still felt like an ass for going about it that way. He knew when he got back to Starfleet he would have to say something to his chosen first officer. He also felt like he should return those memories to the older Spock, but where that Vulcan had gone; Kirk could not begin to imagine.

**The End**


End file.
